Like Halley's comet I am circling back. Back to my old stomping grounds in which I was stomped on. Back to a place of both pleasant and painful memories drifting by like thunder clouds on a sunny day, a contradiction because my mind is fried; sprinkled with the powdered sugar that is nostalgia, badly sweet;
retracing my steps because I lost myself and no one has seen me since.
This is my homecoming, my return to my concrete Shangri-La, to my enchanted forest of street lights and police sirens. To the big apple, forbidden fruit of temptation and tough talking taxi drivers;return of the red-headed stepchild that doesn't look like a child anymore but still feels just as young.
Eight years, three months and seventeen days, time flew by in a dizzy haze, the seasons have changed, stars rearranged the streets are different and no ones to blame, time to turn an face the strange, homecoming.